


Sleep On It

by tsukinofaerii



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 14:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukinofaerii/pseuds/tsukinofaerii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Tony make Bruce an offer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep On It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [monj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monj/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Monj! As requested. ♥

Bruce propped up his feet on Tony's coffee table as he skimmed through his data with an eye to discrepancies. He'd been through it eleven times, but the twelfth was always the charm. As far as he was concerned, there was no such thing as time wasted on review. If more time had been spent reviewing data, then there'd be a lot of people who weren't dead...

Recognizing the path his thoughts were taking, he deliberately turned his focus back to the tablet and its soothingly reasonable numbers. Some days it was too easy to fall into certain patterns. Tony was a great guy, but smashing his shiny new penthouse was sure to put a damper on their friendship. Even Thor had gotten a side-eye for that time he'd accidentally broken a workstation, and that had been in the process of defending the place from killer robots. If a god couldn't tackle a robot without a disappointed look, the big guy wouldn't get away with it. 

Not even if lack of scientific rigor was one of his and Tony's shared peeves.

He was midway through double-checking the solidity of an equation when someone dropped down next to him on the expensive leather sofa. His ass bounced, and his grip slipped just enough for the tablet to be lifted from his hands. 

"Tony!" Bruce snatched for the purloined equipment, twisting to make a face at the thief. "I was—Steve?"

"You're working too hard." Steve smiled at him, a little mischievously and a lot gorgeously. He was still wearing a plain white tee and a pair a sweats, so he'd probably just come from working out. By the smell, he's showered at least. Though Bruce could have guessed _that_ by the way the shirt clung to him, transparent in all the right places. 

It was one thing Bruce still sometimes had trouble with, that Captain America was a real person, with a terrible sense of humor, abs that could be used to forge Mjolnir and a taste for ice cream in any flavor they could make it. Steve was more a real person at twenty-something than a lot of people ever were in their whole lives. It was the sort of thing that was exhilarating and humbling, having him look at you like you could be real, too. 

"I told you he'd think it was me." Tony, the actual Tony—who wasn't the thief, how did that happen?—flopped down on the other side of the couch. There was only about a half a cushion available, but it could never be said that Tony Stark wasn't a possessive bastard. He sprawled out on the black leather, ending with half of him on the arm and half in Bruce's lap. "Heya, pumpkin pop."

"Is this an intervention?" Bruce looked back and forth between them. Like Steve, Tony was in a pair of yoga pants—maybe Pepper's, unless Tony habitually wore pants with _Princess_ on the rear. Knowing Tony, it was a bit of a tossup. "I've eaten today and I saw a whole fifteen minutes of sunlight." Granted, it had been through a window, but Jarvis carefully controlled the filters for the best health advantage combined with minimal risk. Technically, it was _better_ than real sunlight.

"You listen to Pepper too much." Stretching, Tony hooked his legs over Bruce's, while Steve's arm stretched across Bruce's shoulders. "You should stop that. It's not good for you. Sunlight, ew."

"Says the man who eats liquid lettuce for breakfast," Steve added, patting Bruce's shoulder. "Though he did have sausage this morning."

"Indeed I did," Tony leered, and that was Bruce's cue to cut off the discussion before it deteriorated.

"I'm not getting into this," he announced, holding up his hands to declare preemptive surrender. With their weight pinning him, there was no chance of moving, so his best bet was to just ride it out and hope Steve didn't try to be funny again. "What are you two here for?" 

"Another serving of sausage," Tony said promptly.

"He's a big meat eater," Steve added with an absolutely straight face. "One's never enough."

Bruce rested his head in his hands, feeling the heat of a blush across the back of his neck. Tony was Tony, and also incorrigible, but he hadn't expected Steve to get in on it. "Guys, please. Get to the point so I can get back to work."

A hand settled on the back of his neck, kneading. "Sorry," Steve said, rubbing Bruce's tense muscles.

There must have been some sort of communication going on over his head, because Tony slipped down the couch and another hand joined Steve's on his neck. It was strange, being able to tell the difference. Tony had long fingers and calluses on his fingertips, odd raised bits of skin from old scars. Steve's hand was heavier, and all the calluses were on the palm.

"What I _intended to say_ before Steve's dirty mind took us on a tangent," Tony said, over the sound of Steve's disbelieving snort, "is that we'd kind of like it if you joined us for a threesome. No pressure, but invite's open if you want to take us up on it."

For a moment, Bruce froze, heartbeat loud and rising in his ears. He took a slow, deep breath, automatically working to bring it down, counting backwards in prime numbers to help focus. A beat too late, he let out a laugh and sat up, shrugging away their hands.

"Good one, guys," he said, forcing a smile. "Might have got me if it had been Tony and Pepper, but—"

"Pepper and I have an understanding," Tony interrupted, tapping his bare heel against Bruce's calf. "She knows about Steve and I, and she's okay with us adding another. You can call her, if you want."

"I—"Just in case he was being had especially thoroughly, Bruce glanced over at Steve, who's expression was nothing but serious. Steve had an excellent poker face, but Bruce was pretty sure it wasn't that good. He hadn't even known Tony and Steve had a _thing_. How had that slipped his radar? "Look, I'm flattered, but I can't. Sorry."

_Serious_ turned to _concerned_ , with pinched eyebrows and an unhappy frown. Steve patted his shoulder, a little awkwardly. "You don't have to apologize," he said in that Captain America voice that was probably registered as a psychological weapon in some nations. It was damned hard to say no when faced with that voice, that face, that _body_. "We just wanted to let you know, and if you really don't want it—"

"What do you mean, doesn't want it? Of course he wants it." Tony's legs tightened as he used Bruce as a lever to sit up, peering at him with worried eyes. "He's seen you. He's seen _me_. Why wouldn't he want it?"

"Tony, don't be—"

"No, it's a serious question, I don't—"

" _Guys_." Bruce smacked their thighs, cupping his hand to make a loud double _pop_. Both of their mouths snapped shut. "I didn't say I don't want to. I said I _can't_. The big guy—" he tapped his chest "—gets... _excited_. No one wants to see that."

"Really?" He could see the calculations start running through Tony's eyes, probability and biology and probably some in-depth detail of various low-pressure sexual practices that only someone like Tony Stark really had time or inclination to learn. "Not even— _really?_ And how many years has it been?" 

Bruce sighed and sagged back onto the couch, trying really hard not to count. "Too many."

There was another moment of quiet and eyebrow waggles that probably meant something in SteveandTony-ese. (How had he _missed_ that?) Just as Bruce thought he was about to be left in slightly-humiliated peace, Tony said, "Our bed's still open."

" _Steve_ —" Bruce protested right before Tony's hand slapped over his mouth and the rest of the sentence was lost in a mumble and spit.

"No hanky panky," Steve added, because Tony was apparently a bad influence on America.

"Or really careful hanky panky only after strenuous testing," Tony finished cheerfully. He let go of Bruce's face just to grab his arm and yank. "Come on, big guys, naptime."

"Naptime?" Escape went from difficult to impossible as Steve grabbed his other arm. Bruce struggled anyway, more out of a sense of obligation than outrage. A laugh bubbled up in his throat. "I have work to do!"

"After a nap," Steve said, almost smugly as they manhandled him to his feet, leaving his tablet abandoned. 

Tony grinned and squeezed Bruce's arm. "And then maybe we'll discuss some low-cardio options, huh?" 

Bruce laughed helplessly, feet dragging over the thick carpet, making only a token attempt to latch onto some of the heavier furniture as it passed. The hallway was short, barely an alcove. In less than three minutes, they had him in Tony's bedroom, being nestled in between them like a particularly large, shared teddy bear. "Low-cardio. Sure, whatever you say."

"That's what I like to hear." Wrapping around him like an octopus, Tony tucked his chin on Bruce's shoulder while Steve's arm acted as a pillow. "Just trust us, Brucie. We'll take care of you." 

Rolling his eyes, Bruce snuggled down. If they were going to do it anyway, he might as well take advantage. "That's what I'm afraid of."


End file.
